


But My Heart Lies There

by MrBarnesIfYaNasty



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, WW2 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBarnesIfYaNasty/pseuds/MrBarnesIfYaNasty
Summary: WW2 au - Evacuation is mandatory in the UK. 12 year old London boy Bucky Barnes is plucked from everything he knows and sent to the country. But who would ever want a dirty, scruffy city child? Sarah Rogers certainly doesn't. She's got her sickly son's health to think about. But when it's a case of needs must, she'll do her bit for her country. Little did she know what she was letting herself in for. (based on 'Goodnight Mr Tom' by Michelle Magorian)





	But My Heart Lies There

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while huh? I was checking through my Google Docs for the first time in forever and came across the first few pages of this. I thought I'd post it and see what people think! Feedback is always appreciated and I'm hoping it'll help me pick up writing again!

# But My Heart Lies There

### War!

### 

The train station thronged with people. What felt like hundreds of voices were all calling out at once. Women's Voluntary Service workers in their neatly pressed bottle green uniforms. Herds of children screaming, crying, pushing and shoving to get a look at the impressive steam trains. Mothers shouting, smacking and weeping. trying to maintain some control despite the terrifying absurdity of the situation.

In the middle of it all, clutching a crumpled brown paper bag to his chest, stood twelve year old Bucky Barnes. He was completely alone. There was nobody to fuss over him and say goodbye. Nobody to buy him a travel snack from the cafeteria. He watched with steely eyes as the other kids from his school charged about, some playing pranks, others standing in little groups talking and desperately trying to look adult. He knew they were just as terrified as he was. He hated them all.

The wireless had been reporting the grim news for weeks. The United Kingdom was on the brink of war with the Germans. With the war being imminent, the Government had placed an order that all city children be evacuated to the countryside. With the threat of bombs falling on the big cities, it was deemed safer that way. Bucky had woken up that morning, hauled from his bed with no explanation. A brown paper bag had been thrust into his hands by his mother and she’d given him the money to catch the bus to the station. Bucky hadn’t bothered to ask her to come with him. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. A lot of the kids in his class had their mothers with them. Some were even clinging to them like toddlers, wailing about the upcoming separation. He was beginning to wish he’d asked her after all. As much as he tried, it wasn’t always easy to tell himself he didn’t care what people thought of him. 

“And who are you?” A voice next to him suddenly demanded. Bucky looked up to see the fierce face of one of the WVS ladies. She was quite old and looked as if her uniform was about to burst at the seams she was packed into it so tightly. Her mousy hair was drawn into a tight bun that was making her temple pulse.  
“James Barnes,” Bucky replied. 

“And the name of your school?” She asked briskly as though adding that after his name had been the obvious thing to do. 

“Manor road,” He answered. The lady consulted her clipboard and sighed heavily. 

“The rest of your class is boarding the train now,” She said irritably. “Over there,” She pointed to a scarlet engine. He could see some of the children from his class herding onto the train while another WVS lady valiantly tried to stop them pushing and shoving. “Come along now, spit spot.” She gave him a little push. Bucky saw her inspect her hand afterwards.

Still clutching the paper bag to his chest, he sighed and made his way towards the train. 

 

****

 

The journey was hot and noisy. Despite the WVS and the teachers attempts to keep everyone calm, there were children all over the place. The particularly harum-scarum boys were charging up and down the aisles. Others were sitting on leather and cardboard suitcases, pretending they were cowboys, whooping at the tops of their voices and making gun sound effects. The girls were no better. They chattered loudly, shouting to each other from one end of the carriage to another. A group of little girls even tried to use one of their skipping ropes until the fierce WVS lady stepped in and got them seated again. 

Bucky sat at the very front of the carriage. By the time he’d boarded it had been the only seat left. The other children had already paired up, sitting with their friends. Bucky didn’t really have a friend at Manor Road. The kids made fun of his dirty everyday clothes, his long hair and they said he smelled bad. Since then, Bucky had made an effort to sniff himself every morning after he got up. He smelled like he always did, of the slightly musty air in the basement flat in which he and his mother lived. He dipped his head to his chest now, giving himself a quick cursory sniff. 

“What are you doing? silly boy!” Mr Harding demanded as he sat down next to him. Bucky’s head snapped up. Mr Harding was the English teacher at Manor Road, known for his frequent canings. He was a tall man with a shock of red hair and a matching mustache. He seemed to always have a fierce expression on his face.  
“Please Sir,” Bucky asked. “Where are we going?” 

“You’re being evacuated,” Mr Harding explained. “We’re going to a village not far from the seaside. Of course I’m not at liberty to tell you the name of the place. Things being the way they are. I daresay you’ll find out eventually.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. He’d never been to the seaside before. He’d heard tales of donkey rides and ice cream from the other children in his class and he longed to build a sandcastle and collect shells to make it look better. Of course, his Mother had put an end to those ideas, telling him snippily that they couldn’t afford such luxuries as seaside trips.  
“Sir...where will I live?” Bucky continued, swallowing hard against the panic that threatened to rise up. 

“Idiot boy.” Mr Harding snapped. “You’re to be taken to the village hall and one of the local families shall take you in.” He slid his eyes sideways and Bucky saw the flaming red mustache twitch a little. “I do believe your Mother was instructed to dress you in clean clothes.”

“Sorry Sir.” Bucky answered quietly. He stared at his crumpled paper bag on his lap. It was pointless trying to explain. Mr Harding would never understand. Besides, Bucky reasoned, the voice of his mother clear as anything in his head; he deserved it. He was, and always would be, a bad boy.

****

After what seemed like an age, the train finally pulled into a station. The children disembarked in a less-than-orderly fashion, Bucky bringing up the rear. As he stepped onto the platform, he felt as if he’d stepped into some strange new land. London was a hodge-podge of buildings and streets. It was dark, grey and grimy and there were few trees unless you went to a park. This place however, seemed totally the opposite. The station was tiny, consisting of one large stone building that looked more like a house than the bustling station buildings back in the city. A red iron bridge was above them, enabling travel between the two platforms. That was the other weird thing. The station only had two platforms! one for each direction.  
“Form a line children!” The bossy WVS lady announced breaking the spell. “We’re to head to the village hall, quick march!” 

Bucky, of course, brought up the rear of the line. They were marched along the platform and into the village. The place was tiny, with all kinds of trees and bushes and plant life surrounding them. The roads were short and narrow, punctuated by large patches of green grass. As they marched down a lane which looked like it may have been the largest, people came out of their houses and the two small shops to stare at them. A lot of the children had quietened down now, scared and nervous of their unfamiliar surroundings. Just a few paces in front, he heard one of his classmates, Archie Tate, let out a surprised yelp. Bucky hated Archie. He was often at the forefront in the school yard when the other kids would start slinging horrible words and throwing punches.  
“Sir! Sir!” Archie exclaimed. Mr Harding, who was in the middle of the line, turned to face him with irritation. “Look at that!” 

Bucky looked over to where Archie was pointing. It was a large field opposite the houses and shops, it was fenced off by a low stone wall. Right near the edge of this wall stood a rather strange four-legged creature. It was quite large, with a long nose and slightly pointed ears. Its body resembled a white fluffy cloud.  
“Idiot boy!” Mr Harding bristled. “That’s a sheep.” 

Bucky stared at the sheep. It was eating the grass beneath it, chewing slowly, swishing its little tail. Bucky had heard of sheep of course but he’d never seen one this close before. It was like seeing a creature from a storybook come to life. Bucky had been so captivated by it, he hadn’t noticed the boy sitting on the stone wall beside it. He was tall and lanky with a mop of dirty blonde hair. He was dressed in a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black shorts that showed off his scabby knees. His feet were clad in study brown boots. He swung his legs idly, looking amused at the village’s new band of curious interlopers.  
“Your mate really didn’t know what a sheep is?” He asked Bucky curiously.

“He ain’t my mate!” Bucky answered quickly.

“Alright, alright, don’t blow your wig.” The boy said. “My Ma said you evacuee’s were going to be a queer bunch. It looks like she wasn’t lying!” He continued, not sounding wholly unkind. “Anyway, mates or not, you’re being left behind” He nodded and Bucky turned back to see that the crocodile of children had started moving again.

“Come along children, were almost there!” He heard the WVS lady call out. The boy grinned at him and Bucky hurried forwards to catch up. 

*****

Like the rest of the village, the village hall was a small stone building. They were led into a large room that seemed to take up most of it. There was a small stage at one end and little benches lined the walls. At the other end were a couple of tables. Upon them were glasses of orange juice and plates of little fairy cakes. There were two women manning these tables, both of them old, with their hair pinned up in rollers. They were wearing flowery aprons and smiled warmly as everybody entered. 

The bossy WVS lady, clapped her hands together, demanding silence.  
“Ok children, I want you all to sit on the benches, boys on one side and girls on the other” She explained. “Mrs Robinson and Mrs Green will provide you with a drink and a snack shortly,” 

There was a rush as everyone headed to the benches, pushing and shoving as they tried to make sure they were sitting next to friends or siblings. Bucky perched on the very end of one of the boy’s benches, next to Archie Tate.  
“Ugh Stinky Barnes,” Archie muttered, earning a giggle and grin from Ernest Hobson, the boy sitting next to him. “I bloody would have to sit next to him”

Bucky simply tightened his grip on the paper bag and stared at the slightly dusty wooden floor. 

 

****

After half an hour and the promised drink and snack, more people started to flood into the room. They were obviously the villagers, a mixture of young and old. Some were really old, with headscarves and walking sticks. Others seemed very young, with babies balanced on their hips. There were a couple of older men, obviously unable to go and fight for whatever reason, but it was mainly women. Once again, the bossy WVS lady clapped her hands together and all eyes turned to her.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for your time and your contribution towards the war effort,” She said importantly. “As you can see, we have separated the boys and the girls for your convenience. I’d ask that you take two children although do feel free to take more if you feel you have the space.”

And, just like that, it started. The adults moved along the lines and started to pick out the children they wanted to take home. Obviously the young cute ones went first, the older, clean sensible looking ones the next. Finally, after half an hour, there were only two adults left and eight children including Bucky. Nobody had showed particular interested in him. He knew it was because of his long hair and the fact that, even though he was wearing his best clothes, they were still pretty threadbare compared to the neat hand knitted sweaters and shop bought shirts of his peers. He shuffled uncomfortably on the bench. 

Finally, the two adults selected their children, leaving just four including Bucky. The bossy WVS lady tried to convince the two adults but they shook their heads, leaving with their chosen children. The last lady hadn’t even bothered to come up with an excuse, instead making it plain she wanted nothing to do with these ‘reject’ children. The WVS lady and the two aproned ladies gathered in a little huddle, talking in low voices, occasionally casting them glances. Much to Bucky’s relief, Archie and Ernest hadn’t been chosen either. The other child was an older girl with spots and thick glasses and a navy dress with a very uneven hem. Of course they were obviously the children that nobody wanted. 

“Right,” WVS lady said proactively. “Let’s get a move on. We’re going on a little walk around the village, I’ll find you homes if it’s the last thing I do! Mr Harding, you may retire to your boarding house for the night, I’m sure I can handle four small children,” 

Mr Harding nodded his thanks and left without argument. WVS arranged them into a line, giving them all a cursory glance, ordering the girl to straighten her glasses, Archie to tuck in his stained shirt and Ernest to wipe his nose on the proffered hankie.  
“I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about that hair,” She said when she reached Bucky. “But, as I like to say, nil desperandum! Come now children, quick march!” 

She led them out of the village hall and back around the village. Archie and Ernest were relieved to be taken in almost immediately by the landlord of the public house ‘The Goathland Arms’. Although their faces fell somewhat when the landlord announced that two strong boys would be good for the ‘donkey work’ around the pub. The girl was the next to go, a frail old lady took her, smiling at her despite her appearance. She happily told WVS that the girl would make a good companion for her and apologised profusely for not being able to make it to the village hall. The girl looked excited when the old lady told her she was going to teach her how to crochet, beaming from ear to ear.

That just left Bucky. It seemed that nobody had the room to take him in. There weren’t many houses in the village but each one said they either didn’t want ‘London kids’ (as if Bucky were some kind of plague) or that they were already full. It was beginning to get dark and he was starting to get blisters from his battered old plimsolls. Eventually, they approached a small house with a bright painted red door. A youngish looking woman answered. She was wearing a floral dress and a white apron. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back into a bun. There was a smudge of flour on her nose. She smiled when she opened the door.  
“Mrs Banbury, what brings you here?” She asked brightly. 

“Well Sarah, as you know by now I have been designated as the billeting officer for Goathland. I was wondering if you’d be able to take in a child, just the one, a little boy,” WVS, Mrs Banbury explained. 

“Actually,” Sarah bit her lip. “I’d rather not. It’s my son you see, he’s quite sickly and I’m worried about city germs,” She replied. 

“Oh I can assure you the boy is very clean,” Mrs Banbury pushed Bucky forward. Bucky knew he looked as grubby as can be. He tried to quickly finger-comb the tangles from his hair and held his paper bag by his tummy to hide the holes in his sweater. “He’ll be a perfect little pal for your son I’m sure, very quiet, not a bit of trouble. I’d also like to remind you that it is your duty to contribute to the war effort,” 

“Well I can’t argue with that,” Sarah replied with a hint of humour in her voice. She looked at Bucky and smiled at him. “You’d best come in,” 

Mrs Banbury nodded and made a swift exit, obviously worried that Sarah might change her mind. As soon as she was gone, Sarah closed the doors and rolled her eyes.  
“I’m sure she means well,” She said conversationally. “Let’s make you feel a little more comfortable, you can take your plimsolls off and leave them over there,” She pointed to a coat rack. Two pairs of shoes were lined up beside it, a pair of stout black boots and a smaller pair of plimsolls that were in much better condition than Bucky’s. 

Bucky felt somewhat ashamed as he pulled off his plimsolls and placed them next to the other ones. They looked grubby and disgusting in comparison and he wasn’t wearing any socks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d washed his feet.  
“You can put your things over here,” Sarah nodded at a small pine kitchen table. “Oh, you just have the bag?” She added when she noticed Bucky’s paper bag. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied quietly. He had no idea what was inside. His mother had shoved it into his arms and instructed him to give it to whoever took him in. He proffered it with trembling hands. Sarah took it from him and placed it on the kitchen table. He stood, watching, as she opened it and started to root through the contents. She pulled out a piece of paper that Bucky recognised as the writing paper that his mother used.  
“Ok, it looks like she’s packed a your hairbrush, a copy of your Bible, some clean underpants and shorts and a leather belt-” She stopped reading abruptly and delved into the bag. She pulled out a brown leather belt. Bucky’s eyes widened as she slammed it down on the table, looking angry. “Well, let’s ignore that for now.” Sarah continued crossly. “How about we find you some pyjamas? my son’s should just about fit you although you may look a bit comical in them, I’ll just be a minute,”  
Sarah disappeared. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off the belt on the table. He should’ve known his mother would pack it. After all he was a very bad boy who needed correction. He only hoped that he could be good enough to avoid it regularly. 

Sarah bustled back into the kitchen, making him jump. She was carrying a pair of blue and white striped pyjamas.  
“Here you go, you can go in the other room to get changed,” She nodded to a closed door. Wordlessly, Bucky took the clothes from her and shuffled into the other room. It was a cosy looking living room, very small, with a fireplace on one wall. Beside this were two squashy red armchairs and a little table. The other wall had a couple of bookshelves filled with books. In the corner was a small piano. Bucky couldn’t help but stare at it in excitement. He loved to play the piano although he didn’t really get much of a chance to do so. He briefly wondered about asking his new host but very quickly decided against it. While she might let him initially, it wouldn’t be long before she realised that he didn’t deserve such things. 

Realising that he was dawdling, something he would get into trouble for, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled on the provided pyjamas. There rode comically up his legs and arms, showing a lot of his bony wrists and ankles. They smelt heavenly as if they’d just been pulled from a wash.  
“You decent?” Sarah called. Bucky replied with a quiet ‘yes’. A moment later she entered the room, carrying a white mug. “Got you some hot chocolate, I expect you’ll be needing it after that long journey from London,” She motioned to one of the armchairs. “Sit yourself down, this is your home now,” 

****

Sarah tried not to stare at the boy sitting in the chair, making sure to keep his back poker straight. His shoulder length brown hair was tangled and greasy and he was terribly pale. What struck her the most was how quiet the boy was. She’d heard plenty of tales about the rowdy kids from London that were invading the nearby villages. If they were to be believed the ‘London Lot’ were a bunch of wild animals.  
“Miss?” The boy questioned. He didn’t meet her eyes. 

“It’s Mrs actually, but please, call me Sarah,” She replied with a smile. The boy nodded, looking unsure. 

“What is hot chocolate?” He asked, his eyes still staring at her hand woven rug. She stared at the boy curiously, briefly wondering if she’d misheard. He took this time to glance up at her, he looked perfectly serious. He looked back down at the rug. “I ain’t ever had it before,” He explained, sounding extremely apologetic. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll love it. It’s like tea only it tastes just like chocolate,” She explained gently, handing him the mug. “Just give it a couple of minutes to cool down a little. Don’t want you burning yourself while you’re under my care!” 

A coughing from upstairs signalled that she was required at her son’s bedside.  
“I’ll be back soon, I’ve just got to see to my boy,” She said. “And it just occurred to me that you know my name but I don’t know yours!”

“James Miss,” He replied quietly. “But most people call me Bucky,” 

“Well then Bucky, you enjoy your drink. Feel free to take a book from the shelf if you see one that takes your fancy. I’ll be upstairs with Steve, that’s my son. Then I’ll get the attic room as cosy as I can for you and we’ll see about getting you into bed,” 

****

Bucky didn’t meet Sarah’s son until later on that week. He’d tried his best to settle in, keeping to himself and making sure that he didn’t eat too much or make too much noise. Most of the time he sat at the kitchen table looking at the various books from Sarah’s collection. The shelves were packed with all kinds of adventures and Bucky was relishing being able to dive between cowboys, sailors and spacemen as the mood took him. 

That morning however, when he came downstairs from his attic room, there was a pale, skinny blonde boy sitting at the table, nibbling on the piece of toast.  
“Morning Bucky!” Sarah said cheerfully. She was standing at the kitchen counter, spreading another piece of toast with some butter. “Have a seat and say hello to Steve,” 

Bucky obeyed. He took a seat opposite the blonde boy and nodded at him in acknowledgement. He couldn’t quite bring himself to form the words, even though it might make Sarah angry. As it happened, he didn’t need to. This Steve boy talked plenty.  
“Hi! So you’re Bucky? pleased to meet you! I’m Steve. I’ve been in bed all week cos I’ve been poorly but I’m feeling lots better now! I was wondering if you’d like to play out today? I can play outside right Ma?” He chattered nineteen to the dozen. Bucky blinked, wrong-footed. No other kid had ever talked to him this much before. At least not in a friendly way.

“Of course, just mind how you go,” Sarah replied fondly. She placed a blue willow-patterned plate in front of Bucky with a piece of hot buttered toast.

“I think you’ll love it here! I know it looks boring but there’s lots to do. We can go fishing if you want or we can go and pick strawberries, maybe we could go on a bike ride? of course I don’t own my own bike but I bet I can convince my friend Clint to let me use his. Oh wait until you meet Clint! he’s so funny! and there’s Nat too! oh and the twins! only don’t ever challenge Pietro to a race cos there’s no way you’ll win. Do you like card games? Ma taught me how to play some so we could do that too. Sometimes Clint ‘n me play for sweets. You have to watch out ‘cos he cheats-”

“Steve honey, perhaps you’d like to give Bucky a chance to talk?” Sarah said gently. She smiled at her son. Bucky watched them, utterly baffled. Why wasn’t she angry? Surely Steve was being rude? after all, wasn’t it that little boys should be seen and not heard? 

“Oh sorry!” Steve blushed furiously, bringing some colour to his cheeks. “What do you want to do?” 

“Don’t know,” Bucky muttered. Suddenly, there was a loud whistling sound. Bucky shot out of his chair in fright and took cover under the table.

“Bucky?” Sarah said questioningly, lifting the red and white checked table cloth a little. Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with fright. She wasn’t sure what had scared him so much. Surely it couldn’t have been the whistling of the kettle? She hurried over to the range and took the tin kettle off the heat. The whistling noise stopped but Bucky still didn’t reappear. Instead, Steve popped his head under the table.  
“Come on you silly sausage! it’s just the kettle!” He said cheerily.

“Steve honey, do you think you could maybe go and see if the milk has arrived yet?” Sarah asked, wanting to create a suitable distraction. “If not, be a love and see if Mrs Henderson has any spare,” 

“Sure thing Ma,” Steve gave one last cursory look under the table before shooting out of the kitchen like a bottle rocket. She sighed when she heard the front door slam a few seconds later. Perhaps one day her son would remember to close it quietly. 

Now she was alone, she got down on her knees and lifted the tablecloth. Bucky was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He was obviously trying to make himself look as small as possible. Now she was closer to him she could smell an all-too-familiar ammonia scent.

“Bucky sweetheart, would you like to come out and sit at the table?” She asked softly. Bucky didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the sounds of sobbing coming from the boy. It was muffled as he’d pressed his face into his knees, his long brown hair acting like a curtain as it fell forward. “Ok, well we can have breakfast on the floor, sort of like the opposite of Mary Poppins and her tea party on the ceiling,” She continued. “I wonder if you’ve read that book yet. If not, we have a copy somewhere on those shelves! maybe we can find it later?” She stood up and fetched the toast and a glass of orange juice from the table. She put them down on the floor next to Bucky who still hadn’t moved. “Well, I’m just going to get on with the washing up. If you feel like eating then go ahead but if you don’t, that’s ok too.” 

Sarah got to her feet once more and made a start on washing the breakfast dishes. She finished quickly and left them drying on the counter next to the sink. She peeked underneath the table and saw no sign of Bucky but the plate and the glass were both empty.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters this is going to be but I've got notes planning it out until the end so it shouldn't be too long before I update! 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who has read and continues to read and leave comments/kudos on my other fics. I haven't given up on the 'Give Your Heart A Break' series! I've taken a long and unintended hiatus from writing so hopefully once I get back into the swing of it again, I'll be able to go back to it.


End file.
